


20 Years at Freddy's

by oceanstuck



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Gen, could be a while until then, not yet at the terrifying parts, starts happy and turns terrifying, that will have to wait
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanstuck/pseuds/oceanstuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A comprehensive documentation of the rise and fall of a local institution once beloved by all. In these pages are chronicled both the golden age of the pizza parlor and its slow, bloody descent. Though perhaps there may be a silver lining to this story...assuming its characters can live to reach it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	20 Years at Freddy's

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so my mind's attempts to both sort out the game's timeline and fanfic it up have been seriously bugging me for the longest time so finally I just said "fuck it" and decided to start a fic on it already. I am fully aware the sequel will likely nullify something or another in this and have made peace with it even if it'll still piss me off when we figure out what exactly I got wrong here.
> 
> Before anyone asks why I don't have this flagged with "Major Character Death" and/or "Graphic Depictions of Violence" I intend to flag with them once I actually post the parts containing such. Which could be a while, actually, cause I uhm intend to do a lot of worldbuilding and character analysis before I get to the gorey stuff. And after. Actually, there's probably going to be significantly more analysis than death so if you're here for the gruesomely stuffed bodies try coming back at a later date. Or never. I might burn out on this thing I'm not sure. Uhh, maybe this is a bit ambitious for me? Ah well, guess we'll see. Needless to say, if we do get there THE RATING WILL PROBABLY GO UP in case you need to keep an eye on that.
> 
> FNaF (c) Scott Cawthon. But I'm guessing you already knew that.

Perhaps you know the stories already, or at least assume you do. The story of how a child's heaven became a gilded hive. The performer who took from an overly-eager mind. The occupation through which a number have met their end. Unfortunate souls who were lured away and never seen again. I suspect that you have, but if we were to simply retread the bases of these tales this would be a very short discourse, not to mention a redundant one. These bases shall be reached eventually, but the path that meets them shall assuredly be very long and paved with details that would be too expansive for the brief discussions that are often the myths' medium.

But before we begin, consider first a certain characteristic commonly seen in the spirit as man knows it. It often seeks knowledge, whether out of necessity or of inquisition. The former of these tends to cease its quest when it has found what it initially searched for or fails to do just that, as often its intent in taking up this search was to achieve different ends such as ephemeral or ethereal satisfaction and progressing further than is needed for these ends would be an unneeded distraction. For the latter, however, the search in itself brings the satisfaction so dearly craved, and in this way reinforces the spirit's drive to continue it. Still, regardless of motivation, the pursuit of knowledge is a valued and highly-respected characteristic, and rightly so.

Yet at the same time it is a volatile thing, known for illuminating the paths to ends of a sinister quality. Indeed, for a select number among the inquisitive spirits the search is as maddening as it is rewarding. Frantic to traverse it, to clear the blind spots in their awareness, they become pliable to anything offering what they so yearn for. In this state, wicked thoughts and uncertain temptations leave hairline fractures in an otherwise virtuous mind. Left unattended or mishandled, these widen into cracks and then holes, as the spirit descends into a mad fervor...the outcome can be disastrous.

* * *

Two young men, curious and (as some might say) callow, linger in a dorm, upon sheets. The golden light of a lamp illuminates two bodies of hair, one well-kept and of a ginger color, the other in a lank, dirty blond cut. Though their studies distinctively differ, both have achieved a correspondence to support each other and themselves until these studies are complete. Their eyes trace the lettering of texts like the ones you read now, texts distinctively different from each other in both purpose and contents. The redhead's eyes, colored like a current of electricity, gaze upon the contents of an economics textbook. He does this so that in the future he may chart for himself the course of an entrepreneur, a course that all people know to be built on money and PR. His limited but still reasonably wide experience tells him he already has the latter down pat, though it certainly won't prepare him for everything this direction has waiting for him, not the least of which would be the wicked fall from grace that would await his beloved enterprise.

The blond, on the other hand, lays his metallic eyes on a narrative. A spiritual book, to be more exact. His partner might once have advised him to study in his own field, but repeated dismissal of this act had evidently diminished the roommate's willpower to suggest doing such. The blond student's mind gleams the words of the text, the literal events described therein filling his senses and distancing him from his immediate surroundings. At the same time the deeper morals lurking under the surface escape his covetous gaze, and so the soul remains unsatiated under the assumption of nourishment. A section of the passage he reads goes as follows:

> “The Cosmic Director has written His own plays, and assembled the tremendous casts for the pageant of the centuries. From the dark booth of eternity, He pours His creative beam through the films of successive ages, and the pictures are thrown on the screen of space. Just as the motion-picture images appear to be real, but are only combinations of light and shade, so is the universal variety a delusive seeming. The planetary spheres, with their countless forms of life, are naught but figures in a cosmic motion picture, temporarily true to five sense perceptions as the scenes are cast on the screen of man’s consciousness by the infinite creative beam.”

By the time he has finished reading, his ginger companion has welcomed the embrace of sleep. The young man gazes at a timepiece, illuminated by the lamp much to his convenience. It reads 2:13. The young adult decides that it would do him well to follow after his partner's lead, leaves his bed to set the novel on the table, returns to the covers to extinguish the light, and allows his mind to drift into the hands of the unconscious world...


End file.
